Chapter 56

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 56

Chapter Title: Jealousy

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"Want to give it a try?"

Clodel finally sat up, wrapping the blanket tightly around her body.

With a sigh, Kaiyan handed her an apple and a knife, watching her hands intently with burning eyes.

Her grip on the knife lacked any real strength, making it terribly clumsy.

"Ah?"

She needed to angle the knife slantwise and apply pressure, but Clodel looked puzzled as the blade slipped sideways without peeling the smooth apple skin.

"You need to apply pressure. No, don't apply force."

Kaiyan panicked seeing her grip the apple and prepare to slash with brute force, as if she meant to slice her own hand along with it.

"Come here."

Kaiyan seated Clodel between his legs.

She looked small nestled in the arms of his large frame, and a couple of flower petals from the festival still lingered in her hair. He plucked them away with his lips.

"See? Hold the apple in your left hand. Knife in your right."

When Kaiyan overlaid his hands on hers and carefully applied pressure, the apple skin peeled off—clumsily compared to when he did it alone, but it worked.

"It's my first time."

"You can tell you were raised delicately."

"That's not it. You can just eat apples with the skin on."

"You won't starve anywhere, then."

As Clodel roughly let go of her hands, the rest was Kaiyan's job.

He quickly peeled it, sliced it into small pieces, and fed them to Clodel, who had already lain back down on the bed. She looked utterly happy.

Over a mere piece of apple.

She never made that face even with all the dresses and jewels he brought her.

Kaiyan thought Clodel was a bit strange, after all.

After nibbling away the entire apple bit by bit, Clodel began to doze off with a languid expression.

"You need to wash up."

"I'm tired."

"You've been tense the whole festival. That's why."

"Guess so."

Kaiyan brushed off the fact that he'd worn her out thoroughly earlier.

She'd eaten the apple, and after washing... well, hmm.

He too had been swamped with festival preparations, plus a trip to Promhunt, squeezing in a packed schedule every day.

Spending idle time like this with Clodel, without anyone interfering or causing trouble—just the two of them—made him feel alive.

"Want me to wash you?"

"No!"

Clodel, who had her eyes nearly closed as if on the verge of sleep, snapped them wide open like someone cornered on a cliff.

"Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"That's... just... a bit..."

"What's wrong between husband and wife?"

"Still. Um."

Glancing at his reaction, Clodel darted to the bathroom before he could stop her.

"Then I'll wash up first."

She vanished like a shot, so worried he'd insist on helping her bathe.

But less than five minutes later, no water sounds or signs of washing came from the bathroom.

"Clodel?"

With no reply from inside, Kaiyan quietly pushed the door open.

Sure enough, Clodel was asleep, arms folded under her on the edge of the tub.

The steam rising from the hot water made the sleeping woman seem even more lovely.

Kaiyan gathered her submerged red hair, lathered it with soap.

Deep in slumber, she didn't stir even when he gently straightened her arms and laid her back in the water—she just snored softly.

After carefully shampooing her hair and wiping her face with a wet cloth, he wrapped her in a large towel, carried her out, laid her on the bed, and dried her hair by firmly pressing it with another towel.

"There was a time when just seeing red hair made me furious enough to draw my sword on the spot."

His grudge against House Vermonte wouldn't vanish overnight, as if a line had been drawn.

In fact, when he'd met Irena, who claimed to be Clodel's sister visiting from afar, he hadn't been able to put on a good face.

In both House Temneth and House Vermonte, the mutual hatred boiled down to the pride of the family heads, while also serving as a political force that united their territories.

Over hundreds of years, the ancestors had sharpened their blades against each other without any thought of reconciliation—likely because there were real advantages to keeping the enmity alive.

At this point, Kaiyan was determined to end the tiresome family feud in his generation.

Even if he subdued Valmond's lands, directly ruling from the southern tip to the northern end of Oberon Kingdom would be impossible.

He'd always lamented not being able to tax Valmond's immense wealth or freely use the northern sea trade routes. So if he waged war on House Vermonte, it would mark the dawn of a new era for House Temneth—turning Valmond into royal territory to prove his loyalty to the Oberon King.

"But since Clodel grew up there, using Valmond as kindling might not sit right with her?"

To Kaiyan, Rowen Castle's rear garden held many memories too.

The young heir's study had been built there as an annex amid the garden woods, and in the windy winters, Queen Sylvia would bring the crown prince Valquiter to hunt pheasants, staying for weeks.

Biange was young and a girl, so memories of playing together were limited, but with Valquiter, they'd race through the garden woods, playing war games until sunset—just the two of them.

Watching Clodel made him curious about Valmond, which he'd galloped to in a rage before, covering the distance in less than two days on the return.

If the chance arose, it might be nice to go slowly, explore, see her favorite spots, places tied to her childhood memories.

Fortunately, Rowen had a capable butler holding down the fort.

"Shall we go to Valmond together sometime? Two months enough? Clodel?"

He whispered tenderly to the sleeping woman, words that would make the butler gasp in horror: "Two months? Preposterous, my lord!"

"Ha."

Startled by how unusually affectionate his own voice sounded, he flinched.

Clodel kept making him do things he never would have before.

And he didn't hate it.

She was the woman he'd live with for life, after all.

Clodel was his wife, bound to the name of House Temneth—she could never escape him, even in death.

After dressing her gently in fluffy sleepwear, he washed up and returned, pulling her into his usual embrace to sleep.

Valmond.

He'd planned to raze everything but the trade port that Valquiter coveted.

But the pleasant scent from Clodel made him wonder if it was Valmond's mystery, and he doubted he'd threaten that land anymore.

"Would she be happy if I took her back to Valmond?"

Wives married far away usually suffered from homesickness.

Kaiyan had begun thinking with Clodel at the center without even realizing it.

After the festival, Rowen Castle grew even busier.

Rowen's lands enjoyed spring-like and summer weather year-round, allowing triple harvests depending on the crops.

In a place where autumn harvest held little meaning, everyone else played during the fall festival, but Kaiyan had mountains of work: fall sowing, exporting and storing the harvested grain—all while barely catching his breath.

Amid this, an old friend of his—someone he could truly call a close ally—visited Rowen for the first time in ages, so Kaiyan took a rare break by the river branching from the Shken.

A familiar ship soon approached the dock slowly with sails furled, crew busily tossing ropes layer upon layer to secure it to the mooring posts.

Before it fully docked, a man leaped down from above, hooking a rope around his arm like some acrobatic stunt, landing neatly before Kaiyan.

"It's been a while, Your Grace."

"Indeed it has. Rohan."

Kaiyan welcomed him warmly.

The man was a tall young man with shaggy light-brown hair and black eyes.

Just three years older than Kaiyan, Rohan Hindenburg had carved out a new intercontinental trade route once thought House Vermonte's exclusive domain.

Rohan was incredibly curious and free-spirited.

Leaving stable village life to wander alone was inherently dangerous and unprotected, demanding boldness, quick wits, and exceptional information-gathering skills—which he possessed in spades.

Kaiyan had sponsored him with vast sums because Valquiter threw tantrums over that trade port, desperate to use it for free, and he wanted to shove it in House Vermonte's face amid their bluster over northern sea routes and diplomacy.

Yet Hindenburg Trading Company had long repaid Kaiyan's full investment, plus delivered enormous dividends.

It wasn't an exaggeration to say the funds for war against House Vermonte had been amassed thanks to them.

"What brings you to Rowen at a time like this?"

"Heard some intriguing rumors."

"Rumors?"

Rohan grinned, stroking his chin.

"Word is, a usable southern route might open up."

Valmond's northernmost trade port at the continent's northern tip crossed the North Sea between Yta Continent and Sol Continent.

The route linking the continent's northern extremities was the fastest intercontinental passage, as long as one avoided drifting icebergs.

But with House Vermonte monopolizing the port, shortest time or not, it had nothing to do with House Temneth.

Rohan had deciphered ancient texts and gathered intel to find the east-west trade route—the only one safe to traverse currently.

It took twice as long as the northern route, but better than nothing, especially with House Vermonte blocking the way.

A southern route, though?

"Doesn't the South Sea have those squalls?"

The warm southern seas of the continent year-round were prone to wild weather shifts.

The most dangerous was the "sea monster"—massive spiraling wind pillars nicknamed for their terror.

Approaching ones sucked up seawater, people, ships, and sea life in vortexes of unimaginable force, hurling them skyward.

With such disasters, unlike the northern route where icebreakers with steel prows solved everything, sailing the southern seas was unthinkable.

"They say someone's calculated the monsters' paths. Sol Continent's buzzing about it."

"You always hear of these things first."

"If a southern route opens from Sol Continent, where do you think the ships will dock?"

The best spot was Rowen territory.

"What about Sol Continent?"

"They've barely launched any ships—nothing decent. All trade ports are crammed up north for now."

"You mentioned using the excess dividends since my marriage scrapped the war plans to do something foolish."

"Bought up land in every viable spot for a new southern trade port on Sol Continent. Under our company's name, of course—but aren't you the real owner, Your Grace?"

Kaiyan clapped Rohan on the shoulder.

Rare was the man who delivered when trusted with responsibility.

Rohan was one of the few true talents, so Kaiyan funded him generously without questions.

Vassals had grumbled at first, but later praised the family head's keen eye.

"So, how's married life with the enemy?"

At Rohan's teasing question, Kaiyan's eyebrow shot up toward his forehead.

"Whoa, what’s with the look? You just seem surprisingly relaxed, so I asked."

"What you see is what it is."

Kaiyan had zero desire to share Clodel's cuteness or charms with Rohan.

"Let me introduce you today. You'll be seeing each other often from now on."

Inviting Rohan Hindenburg to the castle that evening, Kaiyan witnessed an unexpected sight.

Clodel stared at Rohan endlessly, hands delicately clasped at her chest, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with deep emotion.

"Are you really Lord Rohan? Head of Hindenburg Trading Company!"

...Lord Rohan?